


you think I'm a fake and I know you're a fraud

by wolframvonbielefeld (maknaeline)



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power
Genre: Angst, Cat/Human Hybrids, Catra Is Petty, F/F, Porn with Feelings, Quite Literally, Rough Oral Sex, That's it that's the feelings, Vaginal Fingering, and all associated kinks, future!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 17:13:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16727544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maknaeline/pseuds/wolframvonbielefeld
Summary: All of Adora’s soft pleas forwordsandtalkingcan’t fix what they used to be but that matters less when their bodies slot together like puzzle pieces.or: Catra would rather use her tongue in other ways.





	you think I'm a fake and I know you're a fraud

**Author's Note:**

> Cats have rough, sandpaper-texture tongues. You're welcome.
> 
> Title from Lurk by The Neighbourhood

A recon mission, Adora tells the Queen. In and out, it won’t be a problem, no one and nothing to run into. The only problem is that Adora can’t take her sword.

 

“I don’t know, Adora,” Bow says doubtfully. “What if you run into the Horde?”

 

“When has the Horde touched anything without burning them?” she asks dryly, pulling down her skirt tight around her knees. “I’ll be fine. No, Glimmer, you’re not coming.”

 

“But, Adora -”

 

“No, there’s only one woman in the entire country who sparkles and that’s you. We have to get to this location first before the Horde discovers it, and I’m pretty sure the auctioneers won’t postpone it even if the Horde comes crashing down on their heads.”  

 

“Just -” Glimmer frowns. “Be careful, all right?”

 

“Oh, I will,” Adora says, hand to her chest solemnly. “I’m always careful!”

 

“Too careful,” Bow nods. “I really think you should take a knife, though.”

 

Glimmer sighs. “Adora, stop doing that, your boobs are popping out.”

 

Adora removes her hand. “Uh, I could change.”

 

“Nah, this makes you look as much _not you_ as you could possibly get without turning into She-Ra,” Glimmer says. She flicks a sparkle towards her hair, lighting it up in a glamour that turns her ponytail curlier. “Less recognizable. I mean, what’s the chances you run into someone you know, anyway? Without running into the Horde, I mean.”

 

“You couldn’t even lie your way out of that,” Bow adds.

 

“Yeah, I probably couldn’t,” Adora says nervously.

 

She can.

 

In retrospect, that’s the beginning of the end.

 

*

 

Adora runs into Catra at the _entrance_.

 

“Oh, great, you’re here too,” Catra groans, wearing her stupid purple suit, and _on Scorpia’s arm again_. Adora’s left eyebrow twitches upwards in a growing irritation that has nothing to do with Catra being part of the Horde, an emotion that she refuses to examine too closely. “This one’s a bust, go home, Adora, we can afford this and Bright Moon can’t.”

 

“I’m surprised Hordak isn’t burning this place to the ground yet,” she growls. “Or is that what you came here to do?”

 

“Hell no, would his second in command stoop that low?” Catra’s smile is infuriating. “Come on, Scorpia, we have better things to do.”

 

“But we did come here for the auction, right?” Scorpia asks as they walk away, leaving Adora - to her horror - as compromised as she had expected herself to be.

 

This, she feels, needs expert advice. She considers her conscience, imagines Bow yelling at her for ten seconds straight for messing up the mission potentially, and moves on.

 

That works for around the first two hours of the auction, even with all the unwanted attention a girl in tight revealing clothes garners, even with her identity still a secret. Third hour in, she starts getting uneasy, in between the people fighting over mythical unicorn hair (she’s pretty sure it’s from Swift Wind) and the next - the projected location of a treasure that both the Horde and the Alliance believe to contain First Ones tech, she notices that Catra and Scorpia both look completely unruffled by this progression of events. Her tenseness carries over into her bidding, even when she wins the first one. One million is way high - no one would pay more than that for something that might not exist.

 

That’s what sets her on guard. The win is too easy. If Catra isn’t here for both pieces of the map - what is she here for?

 

Adora doesn’t want to know. She gets the map, memorizing the coordinates. It’s in the old language - the one that only she can apparently read so far. It’s safe, really, but she tucks it into her skirt anyway. Just in case it contains something else that’s hidden - an edge to be used over the Horde later.

 

And then the second round of bidding begins, for the second part of the map, and Scorpia calls out _five million._

 

Adora gapes as the map is delivered directly into her grasp, and Catra’s victorious smile when they lean over it together, scribbling something on it that Scorpia seems to be curious about. Adora’s already running potential escape routes in her mind. She doesn’t _get it_. If they had that much already, why not get both parts of the map? What’s the point? Are they really going to blow this place up?

 

She gets up for the interval, when they all decide to convene in the entrance hall outside, and plans to slip away. There’s nothing left to see, and the further she gets from the Horde, the better. Scorpia doesn’t make any moves to stop her, which makes her more nervous.

 

She gets it when she turns the corner of the corridor on the way to the entrance hall, and a familiar, sharp-clawed hand pulls her into a shaded grotto, in the many winding corridors that lead off it. People have left, but the ones who are all leaving now ignore them, hurrying towards the entrance. Better things to do. It can only be one person. Adora stares back at her defiantly.

 

“Catra,” she says, eyes narrowed - and then Catra kisses her.

 

Adora’s mind goes blank.

 

Catra kisses Adora like she pounces on her - a familiar violence, seeking comfort, demanding affection in return. Adora reacts like she always does - with a flail that makes her come to a stop immediately, hands trembling as they come up to rest against Catra’s wild mane of hair.

 

“Hey, Adora,” she murmurs against her lips, equal parts adoration and malice. Adora hates it. It makes her entire body shudder. “How long are you going to resist me?” One hand at her throat, sharpened claws scraping her jugular, right over her skin.

 

“How long are you going to keep thinking this will work?” Adora fires back, meeting her eyes. It’s hard to think with Catra’s knee nudging up against her where her thighs meet, deliberately moving. Catra has apparently picked up on things Adora had only dreamed about, she thinks bitterly. She doesn’t want to know how. She doesn’t want to know with _who_. “Seducing all your followers will only get you so far.”

 

Catra reads her expressions too easily, and laughs, low in her throat that sends another shiver through her. “Oh, sweetheart, I saved _that_ part only for _you_.”

 

Adora goes red. It’s instinctual - comes to her as naturally as holding the sword and turning into an eight-food odd goddess - maybe that’s not a good comparison. She struggles for a second, and Catra’s knee only gets more insistent. “Catra - this isn’t - someone could see -”

 

“Is that all you’re worried about?” Catra coos, her tone so condescending that Adora wants to flip her into the fancy fountain nearby. “Don’t worry, there’s absolutely no one around. Scorpia’s out scouting, I just had to pay a visit and see how the traitor’s doing.”

 

 _The traitor._ The word leaves her cold again, whatever desire to move she had extinguished. “Catra, we can talk -”

 

“Talk?” Catra laughs coldly. “So you can convince me to join your teensy oh-so-crushable cause again?” She traces a single nail over Adora’s cheek, watching dispassionately as it pierces her skin, almost drawing blood. “So you can talk about how the power of friendship fixes all that we’ve both done? Adora, Adora,” she clicks her tongue. “I don’t care. Neither should you.”

 

“I’m not the one who’s trying to guilt trip someone else,” Adora retorts.

 

The hand framing Adora’s face comes away before it comes back down in a smack that resounds in the empty hallway. “Shut up,” she hisses. Her hand tightens around Adora’s throat, and Adora knows - she’s compromised, her sword is back at Bright Moon and not with her, and Bow and Glimmer could be in danger -

 

She tries, she really does. The gasp that leaves her throat is entirely involuntarily, as is the way her hips jerk downwards, right against Catra’s knee.

 

Catra goes still. Adora remembers seeing this posture before, this moment of complete stillness, Catra frozen and focused on her prey the moment she spotted stray mice. That’s what she feels like right now, a cornered mouse. She should move. She should twist Catra’s arm behind her head and flip her, and run like hell. She’s done it before.

 

Instead she meets Catra’s gaze head-on. She doesn’t look dispassionate anymore. Her eyes are intent.

 

“You like it when I’m rough?” she asks. Her surprise isn’t the worst part - not as much as the way she nudges her knee upwards. Adora can’t exactly stop herself from twitching involuntarily down there - it’s not something she’s worked on, other than in feverish wet dreams that all involved bright eyes and too much teeth on her skin. Catra lifts her skirt, curious, and Adora doesn’t respond, watching her eyes turn into something _ravenous._

 

She doesn’t mind. “Not when you’re slapping me, asshole.”

 

“Hey, I’m not the one who made a sex noise just now.” Catra leans in to lick the side of her face, cool, sandpaper tongue instantly healing. “I’m just trying to adjust.”

 

“You can technically adjust by letting go of me,” Adora points out. “Since you definitely don’t intend to take me into custody, do you?”

 

“Hm, nah. You’re too precious to let go,” Catra says casually. She lets go of the skirt, and slides down to her underwear instead. Her extremely soaked, unfortunately impractical lace underwear.. Catra claws at it, and Adora frowns when she hears it ripping a little.

 

“Hey!”

 

“You won’t need that getting back, will you? Or is your _friend_ Glimmer going to check if you’re cheating on her?” Catra’s tone is snide, and puts Adora on guard.

 

“We’re not,” Adora says. Stops. Why does she feel the need to explain herself? What is she even doing here?

 

“Of course you aren’t.” Brutal, straightforward. “I’m sure your dates consist of her making things _sparkle_ for you. Does she make you pull out your sword, while you’re at it?”

 

“Stop talking about _Glimmer_ ,” Adora snarls. She pulls Catra into another kiss - this time all teeth. Catra doesn’t hesitate to bite. She never has, but not in this context. They’ve never been in this context before, so Adora has no idea how to act. Her hands feel useless, and she wants to do more, but Catra bats them away. Okay, then.

 

“Control-freak,” she accuses.

 

“Bottom,” Catra fires back, smile lazy. “Wait, do you even know what that means?”

 

Adora doesn’t, but she doesn’t like Catra’s tone. “It can’t be a good thing,” she says.

 

“Oh, it is,” Catra sing-songs. Her eyes glitter, luminescent in the pale amber beams that barely lights up their section of the grotto. “You’re very, very good, Adora. Aren’t you?”

 

Adora swallows. The cornered mouse feeling is back. “You’re toying with me. Let me go.”

 

“Oh, no, that would make you very bad indeed,” Catra says. Her free hand - the one not on her throat, slides up Adora’s skirt again, fingers cool against her thighs. “You’re not a bad girl, are you, sweetheart?”

 

“Stop,” Adora tries, and Catra goes stock-still again. She flounders for a bit, surprised at the sudden ceasefire. “Catra?”

 

“What, I’m not an asshole,” Catra says. She tucks her head right into Adora’s neck, sliding her tongue right into her ear for a second. “I’m not doing anythin’ until you ask for it.”

 

“Ask -” Adora’s blush flares up again. “I’m not - do whatever you want, I’ll - I’ll push you away. Damnit, don’t do that.” She leans away from her tongue.

 

“So push me away now.” Catra’s hand finally moves away from her throat and to her chin, tilting it upwards. In this position, Adora realizes, she has a severe disadvantage - she has to look up at Catra, and her neck strains trying to keep up. Her hairtie presses stiffly into her scalp, and she winces visibly.

 

Catra realizes what’s wrong the next second. Catra always has - even back then - been oddly conscious of anything she’s needed, every time her body was out of order or sore from training. Calloused hands, Adora remembers - slowly massaging the kinks out of her muscles. Adora hadn’t needed to do the same for Catra. She had more flexibility - and Adora had needed to keep up with all the innovative ways she could muster up. Taping her wrists and ankles before practice. A ponytail to keep her hair out of her eyes. Less vulnerable, stronger.

 

Catra pulls the tie out of her hair. Adora watches Catra’s eyes change, watching the fall of her hair around her shoulders, glitter bouncing off them - the conflict in them. She wonders if she sees _her_ , or She-Ra. The childhood friend, or the _traitor_.

 

“Don’t want to?” Catra says. The moment breaks, and Adora stiffens. “C’mon, give me something to work with here, Adora.”

 

“Do what you want,” Adora snaps. She knows her flush has extended to her chest. “And - no dirty talking. It’ll just make me laugh.”

 

“Oh, you want this to be _sexy_ ,” Catra says, tone mocking. She leans down to nip at her revealed collarbone. “Damn, I didn’t think you had it in you. What, you want me to recite poetry to you now? Ancient literature?”

 

“Catra -”

 

“Scorpia knows some, you know? They’re pretty useful in our plans.” Catra’s smile is one of victory, seeing how Adora stiffens up at the name. “Surprise, surprise, it actually helped me today. As far as I’m concerned, she’s a way more capable princess. Helped me with training, too. Much more than _you_ ever did.” The last words are breathed into the cleavage that pops beneath her tight dress. Catra’s fingers twirl around the front of her underwear and pull back the lace, snapping it against her. Adora gasps.

 

“Stop - teasing -” she bites out.

 

“Sure, princess,” Catra says agreeably, and pulls down her neckline in one swift motion, mouth sliding down to a perky nipple. Adora claws at thin air for a second, torn between the cool wind on her breast and the warmth of Catra’s mouth. She’s careful, she thinks faintly - avoiding contact with her sharp fangs or any of her predator’s teeth.

 

Catra’s smile bleeds danger when she meets her eyes again. Adora realizes then that her claws are retracted - nails pulled back into her skin in a movement that she remembers hurting every time baby Catra tried to do it. It almost pulls a smile from her before she realizes what she’s about to do.

 

“Caught you off guard?” Catra says. She laps slowly at her nipple before she moves to her other breast, and Adora lets out the shrill noise that was building in her throat when Catra separates her labia with two of her fingers, rubbing insistently against her clit, coating them in slick before she slides them inside her heat. Adora’s head hits the wall, her hair getting in her eyes. She clenches her fists, torn between wanting to push her away and wanting her closer. Wanting to swallow her until nothing can touch her - not the Shadow Weaver, not _Scorpia_ , not Hordak looming over them both in the uncertain distance between them, beyond them.

 

“No,” Adora says. She leans into the way Catra laps at her nipples, her rough tongue making her heart race, her body willed loose around her fingers. “I know what you - you’re capable of.”

 

“That’s what you think. Always looking at the small picture, Adora,” Catra says, popping off her nipple again. Her name sounds edible in her mouth. “That’s a proverb, you know? I’m learning all sorts of things now, from _Scorpia_.” Adora’s heat clenches tighter this time, and Catra ignores the implication, because she’s an asshole like that. “Heard of it? It really does tell you how we’re not too different, you and I.”

 

Adora’s head swims, caught between sensations. “What?”

 

“The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind it,” Catra murmurs. Her face is so close, Adora thinks, dazed. “Pretty little mantis. I’m gonna eat you up.”

 

That’s the only warning Adora gets before Catra goes on one knee, pulling her skirt up, flicking her tongue against her clit. Her hand flies to her mouth, muffling the scream that threatens to burst out. Sandpaper, she thinks - Catra has found excuses to lick and groom her before, in the Before, when things were simpler and they were children and it was just her best friend licking her neck or her throat right out of a fight. Healing, not hurting.

 

This feels like neither. This feels like -

 

Catra is a hurricane, sharp fanged edges on a body that pulses around her fingers and tongue. Adora can’t stop a force of nature.

 

No - that’s not right. She can. She doesn’t want to. She sinks into the touch, and claws right back at her. Adora digs fingers into her hair, and Catra laps at her faster, her fingers striking deeper, and Adora screams this time, hips pushing down further. Catra pulls back to swing one leg over her shoulder, settling on both knees and dives back in, working at Adora until she’s practically riding her face.

 

They’re a force of nature together.

 

All of Adora’s soft pleas for _words_ and _talking_ can’t fix what they used to be but that matters less when their bodies slot together like puzzle pieces.

 

Catra’s fingers thrust and pull out in tandem with her rising heartbeats, and her tongue never leaves her clit, going into a frenzy with the same rhythm, faster with every thrust. She braces herself against the wall, one hand scrambling for support until she finds Catra’s shoulder - the other wrapped around her head, and Catra just grins, all teeth and vengeance. Adora hates her - hates that she has never found anything as beautiful as Catra like this.

 

And then Catra’s teeth catch slightly - just a second - on her clit, and Adora actually goes completely silent as she comes, body going lax. Catra lets her ride it out, and Adora vaguely registers her shoving her own hand into her pants, purring and hissing as her tongue finally lets go of her oversensitive body, still going into aftershocks around her fingers. She thinks her voice is hoarse, but she can’t be sure. She tips over, and Catra -

 

Catra catches her. “It’s not over yet.” Her hand smoothes over her bare ass, digging in. Adora clutches her back, nails leaving scratches on the fabric of her pants. She can barely think. Catra is the one who had let her fall. Let her go first.

 

Catra is the one who helps her slide down the wall and begins to work her into a second, filthier orgasm, one that takes all the pressure off her clit and stimulates her from inside. She feels detached from her body, watching the sudden spray hit Catra’s face, and her confused expression in response would make her break into laughter if she didn’t feel completely boneless. Adora closes her eyes, hands going limp, and she can feel Catra breathe next to her thigh, in an oddly comforting way.

 

Something clings to her mind insistently, and she opens her eyes. But Catra is still there. Not a mirage of angry, violent wet dreams.

 

Catra recovers unfairly fast, as she always does in combat. She retreats cautiously, fingers still wet, and licks them. Adora watches in dim horror as Catra wipes her face on her obviously custom suit - has she even worn it more than twice?

 

“Don’t do that,” she mumbles. “Looks expensive.”

 

“Well, I’m not bottlin’ your expensive come for the populace, your highness,” Catra says, flicking her tongue out to lick the last of it around her mouth. “That’s all mine.”

 

“Catra-!”

 

“Sorry, baby, gotta go.” And then a peck - one that leaves Adora startled at the easy affection of it - before Catra gets up, and bounds away. Adora blinks, and then goes still in horror, immediately checking her pockets. Her hands come away with the rest of the map, and she smiles in satisfaction, before seeing the note attached to it. She checks her other pocket and groans, falling back against the wall. Of course.

 

And to top it all off -

 

“Ma’am?” says the doorman, looking down at her in concern - mercifully, with her skirts down. “Do you need something?”

 

“I need to chase a fucking cat,” she mutters. That’s what this is. A treasure hunt. _A trail._

 

*

 

“You know both coordinates?” Glimmer gasps, when she gets back. “Did you have to lie about something to get it? How’d you get it off the Horde, anyway?”

 

“Come on,” Bow says, concerned. “Adora probably fought it out of them, let her be.”

 

Adora thinks of the note scribbled onto the back of the map, of the way she still throbs every time she thinks about Catra’s fingers inside her. Combat of a different kind. _Good work, princess, but now_ **_we_ ** _know both halves of the map too. Happy hunting!_

 

_We’re not so different, you and I._

 

What else has Catra been lying about?

 

“Of course,” Adora lies easily. “I’m incapable of lying.”

**Author's Note:**

> please leave comments if you liked it they are Super Motivating <3


End file.
